


Almost Too Gay to Function

by Ims0s0rry



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Inspired By Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 11:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ims0s0rry/pseuds/Ims0s0rry
Summary: Rose is a useless lesbian. And then she meets Luisa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blame [Luthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthor/pseuds/Luthor) for this fanfic's existence. I may have started it by sending her a post going "lol this is so rose" but then she rattled off like six of the scenes that happen so then I had no choice but to write it, you know? I can't thank her enough for urging me on even though I was like "my writing is AWFUL and I'll never finish this dumb fic" every. single. week.
> 
> I'll link the original post that inspired this fic at the end since it contains spoilers. There's definitely more than one though but I don't think I have them handy. If you've seen it on tumblr though, chances are I stole that idea too. Link me the source in the comments and I'll add it to the list at the end.

The first time Rose sees her is at work. Not the best place for a first impression, considering that a) her feet hurt and she's counting down the minutes until her shift is over and b) her diner uniform is splattered with grease.

"Hi, welcome to Mickey's. Can I get you started with drinks?" she says in her fake-bright customer voice, handing out menus to the rowdy group of four, two guys and two girls.

And then she sees her and freezes. They're a pretty average group for this time of night. Mickey's is a favorite of the college students since it's cheap and greasy and right off campus. The other girl says something and the two guys roar with laughter. Rose only notices them in her peripheral vision. Her attention is riveted by the gorgeous girl who chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment before she says, "Can I have a mango smoothie?"

It takes a second for Rose to comprehend the words coming from those glossy lips. She blinks, and says, "Y-yeah. Um, wh-what flavor do you want?"

She frowns and tilts her head. Rose can't stop staring at her throat. "A...a mango smoothie?" She sounds genuinely questioning, not that rude sarcastic tone some customers will take with her when she zones out during her job.

Rose flushes. "Right. Uh, sorry about that. Yes, one mango smoothie. And for the rest of you?"

When she heads into the back, she takes a moment to lean against the industrial refrigerator and take a few deep breaths in the hot, stuffy air. _Pull yourself together_ , she tells herself. _You've seen pretty girls before. There's no need for the world to stop every time you make eye contact with one._ Then she starts preparing their drinks.

"Here you are," she says as she places their drinks on the tabletop, carefully looking everywhere but at _her_. She just needs to finish her shift and then she can go home and scream into a pillow. And that can't happen if she's stuck cleaning up a mess because she dropped a plate of hash browns because she was distracted by a pretty girl. "Ready to order?"

She's more annoyed than anything when her hand shakes as she scribbles down their orders.

Just before she enters the kitchen, she sees a flash of silver.

"Dude, you can't bring alcohol into Mickey's!" one of the guys hisses good naturedly to TOPG (that one pretty girl) with a grin as she spikes her smoothie with whatever's in her flask.

"Calm down. No one will say anything," TOPG says. She notices Rose watching and winks at her. Rose almost trips over her feet and stumbles into the fryer, but catches herself in time and merely lurches a bit.

"Rush this," she says to Mickey as she hangs up their order. "I want to go home."

"Yeah, we all do," he mutters, but he slides all four plates down the counter to her in record time anyway.

Rose tries not to listen into their conversation as she wipes down tables and caters to the other customers. Mostly it's a lot of laughing. She wonders if TOPG spends a lot of time at the beach. This is Miami, after all. Her legs are long, lean, brown and make Rose's mouth bone-dry just looking at them. She imagines walking hand in hand together along the surf at sunset. But before she can get too lost in her fantasy, one of the guys makes a comment and the timbre of his voice shakes her out of her daydream. She wonders if either of the two guys are TOPG's boyfriend. How old is she anyway? Rose will be starting her second year of law school in a few days. If TOPG is still an undergrad, she's strictly off-limits. Of course, this is assuming that she'll make an attempt to talk to her, which she won't.

 

"Thank you...Rose," TOPG says, peering at her nametag, when they've all paid their separate checks (so no one's dating each other?) Rose's stomach jumps hearing her say her name.

"Come back anytime!" she says, her voice cracking.

TOPG smiles at her. She has a dimple to the left of her mouth. Rose is overtaken by a sudden urge to sob, but manages to restrain herself to a wince.

She at least has the decency to wait until the door swings shut behind them with a happy tinkle before she fumbles through the receipts. The name Luisa Alver is printed in the register’s blocky font under TOPG's (or Luisa's, she supposes) loose scrawl of a signature and a...200% tip.

 _That was nice of her_.

She sighs as she wipes down the table. It's not as if she'll see her again. Luisa might not even be a student. Maybe one of her friends lives around here and they were just hanging out after work. Even if she is a student, the university takes up several sprawling city blocks. How would she ever find her among the thousands of people? And if Luisa ever came back to the diner, hitting on people at work is not okay. (And Rose is scared and gay and hyper aware of personal boundaries, but that's not the point). Just another half hour crush, that's all it is. Rose is used to it. She is used to disappointment.

She hangs up her apron, waves goodnight to Mickey, and goes home.

…

So imagine her surprise when a week into the new semester, Rose sees her again. She’s booking it across campus in her sensible black pumps to get to class on time, flicks her frizzing hair out of her face, and then her gaze falls on none other than Luisa, sunning herself on the grass in jean shorts, a bikini top, and sunglasses.

One of Rose’s ankles gives out from under her and she staggers right through yellow caution tape and into a ditch. The school is always doing construction in the oddest places. There’s a deafening pop and then her entire right arm goes numb for a second before pain splits her shoulder. She gasps as her vision goes white. There’s an angry buzzing filling her ears.

She’s dimly aware of people gathering around above her and talking in alarmed voices. Their voices cut in and out like radio static.

“...okay?”

“Should...911?”

One voice rises above the rest. “Move...doctor!”

“Luisa...because...med school...mean you’re...doctor.”

“Shut up...I know...doing.”

There’s a rain of dirt and pebbles as someone slides feet-first into the pit.

A half-forgotten memory swims to the surface of Rose’s mind. She is five and crying after scraping her knee. When she holds her arms out to her mother for comfort, her mother turns away. _People will always think you are less than you are because you’re a girl. You’ll have to work twice as hard to get to where they are. Prove them wrong. Be tougher, faster, smarter than they think you are._

Luisa’s talking to her. “...know you...diner...be okay...hurt...ready?”

It’s a monumental effort to form words. “H-huh?”

“Great!” Then there are hands gripping her arm and shoulder and then a more subdued pop as Luisa jams her shoulder back into place.

She gasps again as her arm reverberates with pins and needles. Her vision comes back into focus; the droning fades. She stares up at all the people peering down at her. Then she makes the mistake of turning to look at Luisa. All that dirt-streaked golden skin makes her feel like she’s blind again. She fixes her gaze at a rock sticking out of the dirt just behind Luisa’s shoulder.

“Oh, um...thank you.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Rose feels dizzy as hands grasp at her and pull her out of the hole.

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? Should we call 911?” The same questions bombard her over and over again until she feels like she’s going to faint.

“Alright, show’s over. Give her some space,” Luisa says, physically pushing some people back.

“Thank you,” she says weakly.

Luisa clasps Rose’s hands around a water bottle. “Drink some of my water. You’re very pale.”

She automatically unscrews the cap and brings the bottle up to her mouth. But then she realizes that Luisa’s lips have been on this same bottle and that realization makes her choke.

“Hey, you’re okay. Take your time,” Luisa says, taking the bottle from her and patting her back as she coughs. “Do you wanna sit down for a bit? Come over here. Sit with me.” She takes Rose’s dirty, clammy hand with no hesitation and leads over to the sunny spot where she was laying before.

 _Her hand feels very nice_ , Rose thinks dazedly.

“Do you want more water?” Luisa asks as she sits, propping her hands behind her.

Rose has to swallow and look up at the sky to avoid staring at a solitary bead of sweat tracing Luisa’s collarbone. She’s already had one accident today, better not risk actually choking to death on her thirst **™**. “No,” she says, her voice high. “I’m okay. Thanks. And thank you again for, um, stepping in. I’m sorry about that. You got all dirty because of me.”

“Oh this?” Luisa gestures to some dirt smears on her skin and god, Rose feels like she’s going to combust. Could she not do this to her? Luisa shrugs. “No big deal. I’m just glad I could help.”

“Are you...are you really a doctor?”

“Well, not yet anyway. I just started my last year of med school, but I basically know what I’m doing.”

“Oh” is all Rose can think to say. A choir of angels has filled the rest of her brainspace, but she shuts that down. Just because they’re both in grad school doesn’t mean that she’s single or gay or even remotely interested in her.

“So what do you do here, Rose?”

She startles. She’d forgotten Luisa knew her name. “I’m a sophomore law student. I was actually on my way to class when...all that happened.” She checks her watch and sighs. “I’m fifteen minutes late.”

Luisa smiles. Rose wonders if she could diagnose her with heart palpitations. “No use in going to class then, especially all roughed up like that. Play hooky with me.”

She laughs nervously. “Maybe another time. I’ve got to get home and take a shower before my shift starts.”

“At the diner?”

“Yup!” She tries hard not to cringe. No one says yup. What the hell?

“Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t want you to faint on the way back or something.”

“No no,” Rose says. Now that the danger has passed, pure mortification is starting to set in. “I’ll be okay. Promise.” She holds out her pinky as a joke, but Luisa actually loops her pinky around hers in a proper pinky promise. Rose hopes she can’t feel her hand trembling. She gets to her feet.

“Technically, I’d say you should stay under observation for a bit, just to make sure everything’s okay, but if you’re sure…”

Rose nods vigorously. “Yes. Absolutely. I am 100% a-okay.” She actually cringes this time. Is her brain so overwhelmed with gay that it’s stuck in the 60s?

Luckily, Luisa doesn’t seem to notice. She just frowns and shifts so she can pull her phone out from her tight shorts. Rose tries not to make any weird noises at the way her torso moves. “What’s your number? Just in case.”

Rose’s phone pings in her bag after she rattles off her number.

“Ha, I just realized that I never introduced myself. I’m Luisa. Luisa Alver.”

 _I know_ , Rose thinks but that would make her seem like a creep and she would really like not to make herself look any worse than she already has in front of this really gorgeous girl, so she says, “Nice to actually meet you. Rose Gallagher.”

What does she do now? Shake hands? She’s standing and Luisa’s sitting. Should she squat just to shake hands? Do people shake hands with girls that just popped their shoulders back in? Rose settles for a dorky little wave. “Um, so, I should get going. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, of course. Feel free to call me or text whenever.”

Is that an actual invitation or just an out-of-politeness invitation? “Sure,” Rose says. “See you around.”

Luisa waves and lays back down, stretching out. Rose has to turn around and walk away very quickly before she spends all afternoon admiring her bare stomach.

It isn’t until she’s in the shower later that she realizes a few mumbled thank you’s aren’t going to cut it. Should she send her a gift basket? Take her out to dinner? Where does the line blur between being grateful and coming on too strong? Know what’s worse than hitting on people at work? Hitting on good samaritans. She groans and bangs her head against the tile. She’s too gay for this shit.


	2. Chapter 2

“Let’s go over this one more time,” Rose says as she paces in their cramped living room.

Her two roommates are slouched on the couch. Eliza leans her head back against the armrest. “Rose, that’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“Last time, I promise.”

Yuliya sighs. “It doesn’t seem so complicated to me. So you like her?”

“Yes. No? I don’t know. That’s not the point. I’m trying to thank her for saving my life.”

Eliza snorts. “That’s a little overdramatic. You dislocated your shoulder.”

“Yeah, and I could’ve torn a tendon or a ligament or even fractured something!” At Eliza’s skeptical expression, she adds, “I looked it up. But nothing happened. There’s not even any residual pain. It could’ve gone so badly, but it didn’t because she was there and she knew what she was doing.”

Eliza and Yuliya exchange a glance. “Mmm, still doesn’t count as saving your life,” Eliza says.

“Whatever,” Rose says with impatience, waving a hand in dismissal. “The _point_ is she is bewilderingly attractive and I always get so flustered around her. So first of all, how do I properly thank her for saving my life? And secondly, how do I do it without creating another medical emergency she has to deal with?”

“But you’ve spoken to her?” Yuliya says, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees.

“Yeah.”

“And you know her name?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have her number?”

“Okay, yeah, but did she mean I should contact her only in emergencies? Or does she want to be friends? Maybe she was just being nice.”

Yuliya shrugs. “Who cares? You’ve already progressed further than 95% of your other crushes. I say go for it.”

“That was not the question!” Rose hisses. “The question is what I should do to thank her for—”

“Saving your life. God, we know,” Eliza says.

Rose throws her arms up. “So? What do you guys think? Flowers?”

“Nah, man. Flowers are for hospitals and funerals...unless you take Yuliya’s advice and just ask her out already.”

“I can’t do that!” Rose snaps, pacing again and running a hand through her hair. She just straightened it this morning and it’s already starting to frizz in the humidity even though they’ve got the AC running.

“Why not? What’s so hard about asking if she’s interested in you?”

Rose stops. “Are you serious?”

“...yeah?”

“I mean, there’s the ever present threat of rejection, but because I’m gay, there’s also the chance that she’ll react with disgust.”

Yuliya scoffs. “Rose, we live in Miami. There are _a lot_ of gay people here.”

“Where are they?” Rose cries. In a fit of theatrics, she flings herself down on the couch over her roommates’ legs and throws an arm over her eyes, drowning out their squawks of annoyance with a cry of, “Where are my fellow gays?”

“Have you tried Tinder?” Eliza grumbles as she rearranges their limbs so her legs are on top.

“I’m not looking for a booty call. Anyway, even if she doesn’t shun me for being gay, what if I make it awkward? She seems really cool. I don’t want to scare her off.”

“By your account of what happened, if she hasn’t run screaming from you yet, I think you’ll be okay on the awkward front,” Eliza says.

Rose sits up just to smack her across the back of the head.

“Ow! What? You’re the one that said it was physically painful how dumb you were being. I’m just taking your word for it.”

“Maybe it’s better if I drop it. Don’t say anything. Forget about her.”

“Why? You’ve been positively moony since you’ve met her.”

Rose sighs. “Okay, how do I explain this...do you remember being scared in school locker rooms?”

“No.”

“Right. Well, it’s a thing, okay? I would always change really fast and stare at a corner the whole time because I didn’t want anyone thinking that I was checking them out. It was essentially internalized gay panic.”

“There’s plenty of gay panic right now. Ow!” Eliza says as Rose smacks her again.

“Did anyone know you were gay then?” Yuliya asks as she reaches over to rub Eliza’s head.

“No, but I was afraid I would slip up and someone would notice and call me out on it. And honestly that’s the last thing I needed in high school.”

Yuliya laughs. “I can never imagine it whenever you say you were nerdy and unpopular in school.”

“How is that hard to believe? I was co-captain of the debate team. It doesn’t get any nerdier than that.”

“Yeah, but a lot of things have changed since then.”

“Does it matter? The reason why I bring it up is because I feel the same way around Luisa.”

“Scared shitless?” Eliza quips.

“I mean, yeah, that too, but that...unclean feeling of being a voyeur without the other person’s consent, of doing something you know is wrong and knowing you could be caught at any second. I feel like a creepy old man leering at an innocent girl—”

Eliza snorts. She’s on her phone. Rose can’t help but feel a little miffed. She knows that her friends have lives that don’t revolve around her, but she is having _a crisis_.

“—whenever I look at her and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I’m not going to be the predatory lesbian.”

“Oh honey,” Yuliya says, patting her hair. “You could never be a predatory lesbian.” When Rose scrunches her forehead in question, she adds, “The point of the trope is seduction and unless you’re planning on seducing her with your awkwardness, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Rose scowls.

“What? You said you didn’t want to be a predatory lesbian. It’s basically a compliment.”

“What does it matter in the end?” Rose mumbles as she runs her hands down her face. “She’s not even gay. I don’t have a chance with her.”

Eliza snorts again, flicking through pages on her phone.

“Seriously, what’s so funny?” Rose snaps.

“‘ _But she’s so innocent and straight!_ ’” Eliza says in a passable impression of Rose’s anguish. “Your girl is a total rage machine and gay as hell.”

She holds her phone out to her. Rose swipes through grainy facebook photos of Luisa either dancing in dark, cramped quarters or kissing girls. She’s holding some sort of drink in every single one. “Okay. Okay, let me think about this,” she says. “Wait no, maybe she’s just bi-curious. These don’t mean anything. Plenty of straight girls make out with each other when they’re drunk. I don’t get it.” Both Eliza and Yuliya give her a look. “I mean, I do, who doesn’t want to kiss pretty girls? But they only do it for the titillation of men, that’s the part I don’t get.”

She furiously taps the screen to get back to the main page. “This is her facebook page? There’s nothing on here!” There are no posts, no sexual preference, no relationship status.

“Yeah,” Eliza says, squishing her face next to Rose’s. “Doesn’t look like she’s on much. All those pictures are other people tagging her. And her privacy settings are set to public.”

“She could be seeing someone and doesn’t feel the need to make it facebook official. That’s very mature.” She frowns. “Does make cyber-stalking her a lot harder.” She freezes. “Oh my god, I’m that bitch. The one that’s so desperate she resorts to cyber-stalking.” She turns to her roommates. “You should be stopping me, not enabling me!”

Yuliya pushes Eliza’s head out of the way so she can take a look at the phone too. “Calm down. Straight people do this all the time. It doesn’t make it creepy just because you’re gay. Why you gotta be so self-defeating all the time?” To Eliza, she says, “See if she has an instagram or twitter.”

Eliza shakes her head. “Already checked.”

“One misstep and I could mess everything up. Okay, listen, even if she’s gay—which there is no proof of—and I’m not her type at all, we could still be friends. I don’t want to screw things up by rushing things and hitting on her before I know where we stand, respectively.”

“So you do wanna eventually ask her out?”

“Whoa, no one said anything about that. I was talking in hypotheticals. Click on her likes. Maybe I’ll just get her a gift card to a store she likes. Nice and noncommittal. No expectations. And then I can say thank you and never see her again while I playback the memory of toppling into a hole in front of her in slow-motion and bask in my humiliation for the rest of my life.”

Luisa’s likes include...smiling. That’s it.

“Why can’t anything ever be easy?” Rose slams a pillow over her face and screams.

…

A week later, she’s sitting in bed and staring down at her phone. She’s got a text written out but she hasn’t hit send yet.

 **R:** Hey Luisa, this is Rose. I wanted to properly thank you for helping me out the other day, so I got you something. When would be a good time to meet up?

She frowns. Is there anything that could possibly be misconstrued? She’s going for casual and polite instead of the mass of nerves that Luisa always reduces her to. After a good ten minutes of deliberation, she sighs and hits send anyway. She puts her phone on the bedside table, ready to go to bed and wait until morning for a text back. It’s late anyway and Luisa’s a med student. She’s probably already asleep.

But her phone buzzes with a new text almost immediately. Rose considers just leaving it for the morning, but she decides to take a look.

 **L:** heYYYY GIRL WHATS UP? i thot ud 4gotten abt me??? ur so sweet! r u free wed aftn? come over 2 my place. ill cook ;)))

A grin splits Rose’s face. Should she play it cool and pretend she’s asleep? Nah, who is she kidding? She’s too excited for that.

 **R:** Sure. What time? What’s your address? Should I bring anything?

Of course, she panics right after she sends it. Come back, she mouths at the message, distraught. She sounds much too eager and desperate, which she _is_ , but she doesn’t want Luisa to know that. But before she can sink into the depths of despair, her phone buzzes again.

 **L:** ~1ish? @ 376 keys dr. just bring urselfff ;)

She squints. Do those extra two f’s mean anything? Is that considered flirting? Or is this just the way she always texts? Or maybe she’s distracted? And what about the enigma of the winky face? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Rose is trying to distract herself from her hysteria by mapping out where on campus the address is in her head when another text appears.

 **L:** b4 i 4get, anything ur allergic 2? dietary restrictions?

 **R:** Nope! Anything’s fine by me!

She scowls. Does she sound too chipper? What if she’s coming on too strong?

 **L:** g8 c u then!

 **R:** Sounds good. Good night.

There. Much better. Periods convey maturity and stability much better than exclamation points.

 **L:** Nite!!!

Anxiety and giddiness coil in her stomach as she sets her phone down and settles under the covers. It’s difficult for her to stop grinning and fall asleep that night.

…

She sighs when she realizes where she is. 376 Keys Dr is on frat row. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that Luisa is a sorority girl considering all her party photos, but her anxiety ratchets up a notch. What do they have in common? She doesn’t know anything about Greek life. She was much too awkward and nerdy to feel comfortable rushing as an undergrad. She didn’t even know grad students could be members of Greek life until right now.

But it’s too late to turn back now. Even if Luisa wasn’t expecting her, her mother’s voice echoes in her head: _Debts are dangerous things to have in our line of work. Do not let them accrue interest._ So she squares her shoulders, raises her chin, and strides down the path to the house. This is just another routine mock trial. No problem.

She rings the doorbell and hardly has time to remind herself to breathe when the door is ripped open and she’s pulled inside.

“Hey Rose! I’m so glad you made it. Come in, come in, let’s go to the kitchen.” Luisa drags her by the hand, her flowery apron bouncing as she makes her way through the house.

Too many things are happening at once. Rose’s brain is short-circuiting alone from having Luisa hold her hand without any disaster to preempt it.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Luisa says when they reach the kitchen, and drops her hand to bend over and look in the fridge. Rose looks away to avoid staring at her ass. “We’ve got orange juice, coffee, all sorts of pop, basically every type of alcohol you can name off the top of your head.” Luisa looks up and smiles, flashing that dimple. “Anything strike your fancy?”

“Water,” Rose squeaks. She clears her throat. “Water would be fine, thank you.”

The kitchen is open and airy. Pure Florida sunshine streams in from the sliding doors that lead out to a patio, complete with lawn chairs and a grill. Opposite the kitchen is the living room, where a battered, squishy leather sofa sags in the place of honor before the TV, which is a lot smaller than Rose was expecting.

“Thank you,” Rose murmurs when Luisa hands her a tall glass of water. “So, uh, you’re a sorority girl?”

Luisa turns back to the stove and shrugs. “Not really. I mean, yeah, I live in a house but it’s not the crazy party lifestyle you’re thinking of.”

She turns to the cabinet to take out some spices and catches Rose’s expression before she can censor herself. “Okay, so there’s definitely some of that but honestly, Phi Delta Epsilon is a professional, not social, fraternity.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a co-ed fraternity made up of people in the same line of study, in our case, aspiring doctors. So this way we’re able to network and are exposed to all sorts of resources. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get out ahead of our peers. Med school is cutthroat, you know.”

“I’d imagine so,” Rose says before she takes a sip of her water.

She suddenly realizes she’s forgotten her manners.

“Do you need any help with that?” Rose nods to the stove. “What are you making anyway? It smells amazing.”

“Oh, this?” Luisa says, scooting her phone away from the stove. “Just a little secret recipe handed down for generations called…” She taps her phone to light up the screen. “Roasted eggplant curry. Is that okay with you?”

Rose spies the Buzzfeed Tasty logo on her phone. “Hmm? Oh yeah. I love eggplant. And curry. And roasted...no, wait.” She winces, but Luisa laughs.

“I’m almost done anyway, but if you wanna set the table?”

“Yes, absolutely, I can do that.” She squeezes by Luisa, careful not to touch her, and starts opening and closing cabinets and drawers at random. She suddenly can’t recall if you eat curry on plates or in bowls. And what about the weird dishes that are like bowls but with the sides that stick out like plates? How much does Luisa eat? Will she be insulted if she chooses dishware that’s too small for her appetite? Rose knows she’s making a fool out of herself. Luisa asked her to do this one simple thing and she can’t even figure it out. She is utterly useless and of course Luisa will never want to be in her company ever again.

“Those are fine,” Luisa says, brushing by her with the steaming pot.

Rose fumbles with the weird plate-bowl things and grabs two mismatched spoons from a drawer and hurries over to the table. Luisa doles out rice for the both of them and ladles a generous portion of curry over the top. She retrieves a salad from the fridge as well.

“Sit down, sit down,” she says, waving a hand as she hangs up the apron. “Want some tequila?”

“No, I’m okay. Does tequila go with curry?”

“Hell if I know,” Luisa says, pouring herself a good measure in a wine glass. “Tequila goes with everything.”

Rose is a little confused. Isn’t tequila supposed to be taken in shots or in cocktails like margaritas? But she doesn’t really know enough to say.

“Go ahead. Tell me if it’s okay,” Luisa says, propping her chin in her hands in anticipation as Rose takes a bite and coughs. “Too spicy?”

“Nope,” Rose wheezes, her eyes barely watering. “It’s delicious.”

At the sight of Luisa’s face falling though, she starts to shovel heaping spoonfuls into her mouth. The spiciness isn’t too bad once her mouth goes numb. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

Luisa stares at her with narrowed eyes for a bit but eventually lets it go as Rose continues to scarf down her food. “So how’s your shoulder?”

“Fantastic. It’s like it never happened. Oh here, I got you this.” She pulls a Starbucks gift card out of her pocket. “I didn’t know what to get you to thank you, but I figured med students must pull a lot of all nighters so maybe you drink coffee? If you don’t, that’s fine. Feel free to give it away. I just wanted to...um, yeah.”

Luisa is smiling at her. It makes her intestines feel like they’re being pumped full of butterflies. “You know you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Well, thank you.”

To Rose’s surprise, she manages to hold a conversation with Luisa for the most part without stammering too bad. She’s remarkably easy to talk to.

“Where’s everyone else? I’m guessing you don’t live in this house all by yourself.”

“Oh, you know, they’re out. Probably studying or volunteering or working. Something like that.”

Right on cue, the front door opens. “Ayyy, where’s my favorite bitch?”

“In here, Ricardo!” Luisa calls.

“Ugh, it smells divine. I take it the recipe you got off Tasty worked?” Ricardo, presumably, asks as he strolls into the kitchen and bends down to air kiss Luisa on both cheeks. “Look at you, cooking! Is it poisoned?” He winks at Rose. “She’s never offered to cook for the house in the three years I’ve lived here. We weren’t even sure if she knew how to boil water but apparently she just needs the right incentive, isn’t that right?”

Luisa stops making the frantic throat slashing motions with her hand and smiles beatifically up at him. He is unmoved. “I guess so. Rose, this is Ricardo. He’s a third year med student. Ricardo, this is—”

“Oh darling, I know who you are! Luisa would simply not stop waxing poetic about you.” He leans toward her and says in a faux whisper, “And you know she’s in med school for a reason. Not a poetic bone in her body. It was terrible.”

Luisa elbows him in the side while Rose smiles uncertainly. “Ricardo, don’t you have that exam in cardiology tomorrow? Better get to it,” Luisa says through her teeth.

“Yeah yeah,” he says. “Before I go though, anything I can get you two? You need chocolate? Candles? Sexy 80s saxophone music to set the mood?”

“What mood?” Rose asks.

“Candles? It’s 2pm!” Luisa says at the same time. “Just get out. I’ve got this, okay?”

“Just trying to help,” he says as he turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. “You kids don’t stay up too late now, you hear? And don’t eat all the curry! If I end up failing the exam, I want to get terrible food poisoning so the professor will take pity on me and let me take it again.”

“Ha ha,” she calls up to him. But then she turns to face Rose. “ _Do_ you feel okay?”

“Yes? I feel fine.” Rose takes another bite of the curry to prove her point. “It’s delicious, by the way. Did I mention that?”

“You did,” Luisa says, raising her chin and preening a bit, “but like Ricardo said, I don’t cook very often, so I could bear to hear it a little more.” Her smile fades. “But seriously, if you start feeling nauseous or queasy within the next few hours, call poison control.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Your cooking is excellent, nowhere bad enough to warrant something that drastic. It was very nice of you to invite me over for lunch in the first place. Besides,” she adds, lifting an eyebrow, “what did you say about this being an old family recipe?”

“Yeah...about that, so I might’ve actually panicked after I got out of class and pulled everything we had out of our fridge and googled what I could make out of it and this is what popped up. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice but it seems some people in this house can’t keep their mouths shut.”

“You could’ve just said that in the first place. I wouldn’t have judged.”

Luisa shrugs. “I wanted to impress you.”

Rose misses her mouth with her spoon. “W-why?”

She grins. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Rose swallows. “You’re going to have to be frank with me. I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Luisa starts to say something, but whatever it is is drowned out by the door slamming again and this time a whole gaggle of people crowd into the house.

“...think that was enough time?”

“Please, she’s never had any trouble seducing anyone before.”

The conversation abruptly stops when all ten or so people enter the kitchen. Rose recognizes the three that were with Luisa that night at the diner. There’s a long moment of silence as Luisa glares at all of them before she says, “Rose, these are my housemates. Everyone, this is Rose.”

They all mumble their hellos.

There’s another awkward silence before a tiny Asian girl with bright purple hair breaches the distance and takes the chair next to Rose. “Hey, I’m Mira.” She gets on her knees on the chair to lean over the table and peer into the pot. “Come on, really, curry? You should’ve gone for something lighter. Curry’s terrible for kissing.”

“Everyone knows that it’s fine if both parties have had some,” Luisa snaps.

Rose glances between them, her brow furrowed. Luisa is tense now and she can’t figure out why.

Gradually, everyone gets plates and sits at the table, piling curry and rice and salad onto their plates. It's crowded. There are four different conversations going on. Rose feels like she can barely move without accidentally elbowing someone but it’s nice to be included. It’s very rare for Rose and her roommates to have dinner together since their schedules are all over the place.

“Don’t say anything about it being poisoned,” Luisa says. “Ricardo’s already made that joke.”

“So Rose,” one of the girls says, “how’s your semester going so far?”

“It’s okay. The first week of law school last year was a rude awakening, but I feel like I’m better prepared now. It’s still grueling, but I know what to expect. Is that what it’s like in med school?”

There are grumbles all around.

One guy chews on the lid of his coffee cup, curled up on his chair and shaking slightly. “I haven’t slept in three days.”

Rose fidgets. Maybe a Starbucks gift card wasn’t the best idea if it leads to situations like these. The others regard him with concern.

“Dude, go to bed. Studying can wait until tomorrow.”

“Get some sleep. It’s okay.”

“Want me to tuck you in?”

“So yeah,” one of the girls says as the poor sleep-deprived guy shuffles off. “It’s rough.”

“So how do you stay sane?” Rose asks.

They all share conspiratorial smirks.

“What?”

“The PhiDE unofficial motto is ‘work hard, play really hard.’”

“We’re hitting up Bolt this weekend. Wanna come?”

Rose blinks. “The local gay bar?”

“Yeah. Have you ever been?”

“No. I’ve been meaning to, but I just haven’t had the time.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Mira, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be great. The best part is it’s not one of those ‘tourist-y’ bars where the straights like to go just to gawk at us.”

_Us? So are all of them gay? Most of them? Some of them? How do I signal to them that I’m also gay without saying the actual words?_

But by the time she’s come up with something to say, the moment’s passed.

 

Once everyone’s done eating, they all stack the dishes in the sink and pack up the leftovers before crowding onto the couch.

Rose automatically starts lathering up the sponge.

“What are you doing?” someone asks in an accusing voice.

Rose whirls around and nearly drops the sponge. Luisa is glaring at her with her hands on her hips.

“Washing the dishes. I mean, washing the dishes?” Usually she’d be a lot more assertive about cleaning up but Luisa has been sulky ever since her housemates interrupted her and Rose isn’t sure if it’s her fault. She just really wants Luisa not to be mad at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, stepping much too close. Even though Rose has a good four inches on her, she’s intimidated enough to take a step back. “You’re a guest. You’re not allowed to do the dishes. If anything,” she yells over her shoulder, “my lazy housemates should be cleaning up since I cooked!” But they’re all squabbling over the remote and don’t pay her any attention.

“I really don’t mind,” Rose says, sliding in front of the sink again.

“Absolutely not.” Luisa hip-checks her and Rose stumbles into the counter. She grimaces and rubs her side where she hit the granite. Those hips are a force to be reckoned with.

“I insist.” Rose tries to gently push her out of the way, but Luisa braces herself and leans into her. Rose backs off immediately, worried she’s pushing boundaries. “Look, if I can’t wash, I can at least dry. And then your housemates can put everything away. Deal?”

Luisa frowns at her. “I’m not happy about it, but okay.”

She picks up a dish towel. “That’s the thing about compromises, though. No one’s happy but it works.”

They work in silence for a bit. Rose is drying on autopilot, focusing on not accidentally leaning against her or something when Luisa gets on her tiptoes and whispers into her ear in this low, sultry voice, “Is that what they teach you in law school?”

It’s not even that great of a line but just the _tone_ and feeling Luisa’s breath on her neck and trying to be on her best non-gay behavior all afternoon has her frayed gay nerves shot. She jumps and sloshes water all over the both of them. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” Luisa says, dropping the sponge to grab fistfuls of paper towels and dab at Rose’s chest. There’s a wolf whistle from the living room. “Oh shut up. Someone do the rest of the dishes. I’m going to get Rose another shirt. Come on,” she says, taking Rose’s hand and guiding her up the stairs.

Ricardo sticks his head out of his room when he hears them coming up the stairs. “Nice. Get it, girl!”

Luisa pushes him back into the room and slams the door in his face without slowing down. “Sorry about that. They’re all constantly sleep-deprived so they don’t have filters anymore.”

She leads her into a small bedroom and shuts the door behind them. There’s a bunk bed against one wall, two chests of drawers, two desks, and clothes and papers and books strewn everywhere. “Don’t mind the mess.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rose says automatically. Her apprehension doubles being in a room alone with a pretty girl, and that’s before Luisa takes off her shirt. Rose actually staggers into a desk, knocking some textbooks onto the floor (Ricardo bangs on the other side of the wall and says, “YASSS, GURL.”), and clutches her chest. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her ribcage. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Luisa is pulling shirts out of drawers and throwing them over her shoulder like scarves from a magician’s top hat. “Getting you a shirt, silly. Which one would you like? You’ve got a very long torso. I think most of my shirts might be too short for you. Are you okay with baring your midriff, Rose? Rose?”

“I-I-I, uh…” Rose can’t stop staring at a birthmark shaped like New Zealand right above the waistband of Luisa’s shorts.

Luisa drops all the shirts and rushes over to her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“That would be a fair approximation of what I’m going through, yes,” Rose says in this terrible, high-pitched voice.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? This isn’t even the first time she’s seen this much of Luisa’s skin. It’s basically the same as that day where she toppled into the ditch. And considering how much time she’s spent ruminating on it, she thought she’d be able to shrug this inconvenient reaction off. Apparently not.

“What is it? Oh no, is it my curry?”

Rose swallows, trying to breathe normally with a shirtless Luisa _this_ close to her _again_ and shakes her head. “No. I...no, it’s, um, nothing. Don’t worry about it. What did you say about shirts?”

Luisa presses the back of her hand against Rose’s forehead and like the gay disaster she is, Rose almost swoons. “Yeah, you feel clammy. Better get you out of that shirt.”

Ricardo howls from the other room.

“Mind your own business, you perv!” Luisa shouts.

So in true Rose “I’m a useless gay” fashion, she sits on the desk and shakes as Luisa peels the blouse off her and towels her off.

“I’m really sorry again. Is this dry clean only? I can take care of it for you. It’s the least I could do.”

“No no, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.” Then a thought comes to Rose. “Wait, do you want me to wash your shirt since I’m the one who splashed you?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ll throw it in with the rest of my clothes. Here.” Luisa pulls a thin blue plaid shirt over her arms and starts to do up the middle buttons for her. Is it just Rose’s imagination or do her fingers hesitate over the buttons over her bra?

“What do you think?” Luisa asks as she throws on a university t-shirt.

“It’s...definitely not what I usually wear,” Rose remarks, staring at herself in the mirror. Like Luisa said, her shirts are a little too small for Rose so the top few and bottom few buttons have been left undone, exposing her milky stomach.

“I know it’s not ideal, but I really like that color on you. Brings out your eyes.”

When they go back downstairs there are more hoots and wolf whistles. “Lookin’ good, Rose!”

“Stop making her feel uncomfortable, you losers!” Luisa yells at them as she steers Rose towards the front door. “So! I had a great time. We should do this again, but without all my annoying housemates.”

“Yeah, me too,” Rose says. Luisa’s holding both her hands and staring up at her. It’s the definition of mesmerizing. “Oh, don’t worry. I had fun. Your housemates are hilarious. I’d love to hang out again sometime.”

“I’ll text you the details on Bolt.”

“Grool.”

Luisa raises an eyebrow and god, this isn’t fair.

“I mean, great. Well, I was gonna say great, but then I started to say cool. So, yeah, that’s what came out. I swear I’m a lot better at talking when I’m in the courtroom.”

Luisa inches forward and it takes all of Rose’s self-control not to take a step back. What is Luisa doing? Isn’t she afraid of catching a whiff of her terrible curry breath?

“Is that so?” Luisa says softly.

Rose licks her lips. “Y-yeah?”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” she says in that soft, dangerous voice. She’s still looking up at her with those lovely hazel eyes. She leans in and…

Kill Bill sirens go off in Rose’s head. She panics. That’s the only word for it. She lurches forward and squishes Luisa’s face into her shoulder as she mechanically pats her on the back. “Yep, this was great. The food was great. Your friends are great. You’re great. I’ll see you soon bye.”

She tears open the door and barely manages not to run down the sidewalk, but barely.


	3. Chapter 3

Rose is sitting in the dark in her pajamas, watching Law & Order: SVU (the only Law & Order that matters for all she cares) and halfway through a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Pistachio Pistachio when her roommates come home.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Yuliya asks before she flicks the switch.

Rose hisses and raises an arm to shield her eyes.

“Oh no,” Eliza says, flopping down on the couch next to her and stealing a spoonful of ice cream before Rose can stop her. “She’s having a pity party. She only watches Law & Order when she’s really feeling sorry for herself.”

Rose holds her ice cream out of Eliza’s reach. “Shut up. No I’m not.”

Yuliya pops up behind the couch on her other side and helps herself to a spoonful as well. “Sounds a lot like denial to me.”

Rose presses what’s left of her ice cream to her stomach and leans over to protect it. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I would never.” She puts a hand to her chest in outrage. “Freud was a bitch.”

“Amen,” Eliza adds, digging in the freezer for her own pint of Chunky Monkey. “Wanna share, Yuliya?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Banana is gross.”

Eliza shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She settles on the couch again and glances at the tv. “Is this the episode where the woman kills her parents to pay off her debts?”

Rose blinks. “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t really been paying attention.”

“Why’s that?” Yuliya asks, climbing over the back of the couch to sit on her other side.

“I’ve been trying to distract myself from over-analyzing every little thing that went wrong today.”

“Ah ha!” Eliza says suddenly, pointing a spoon at her. “So you admit it. It’s a pity party.”

“No!” At Eliza’s disbelieving expression, she says, “Okay, maybe a little.” She sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everytime I think things are going well, I somehow manage to ruin everything.”

“Details,” Eliza demands, snapping her fingers. “I’m gonna need details if I’m going to live vicariously through you.” When Rose scowls at her, she adds, “Please.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Rose says...before she launches into every minute detail about what happened. Despite her friends’ gentle bullying, it always helps to get another perspective otherwise she ends up going around in circles. “And then her housemates all came home—”

“Hang on,” Yuliya cuts in. “There was no one else in the house?”

“Yeah.”

“And they all came home at once?”

“Pretty much. One guy showed up first and then like ten minutes later, everyone else did.”

“How many people live in the house?”

Rose shrugs. “Maybe like ten?”

“And that was everyone that lived in the house?”

“I think so.”

Yuliya squints. “And you don’t think that’s suspicious?”

Rose frowns. “Why would that be suspicious?”

She counts on her fingers. “First of all, that there’s no one there but you two on a Wednesday afternoon. Second of all, that they all came home pretty much at the same time.”

Rose stares at her blankly. “Why is that weird? _Our_ schedules hardly ever match up.”

“Yeah, because there are only three of us. The chances of having at least a few people milling around at any given time increase if there are more people to account for.”

“But Luisa said that they were all busy like working or in class or something.”

Yuliya takes Rose’s face in her hands and squishes her cheeks. “I love you, but you are being so dumb right now.”

“Let’s say Luisa was lying,” Eliza says, coaxing her along.

Rose opens her mouth to defend Luisa’s honor but then she remembers that odd bit of the conversation where she admitted she lied about it being an old family recipe because she wanted to impress her. She’s still confused about that. “Okay…”

“Now why would she do that?” Eliza asks in a tone not unlike that of a patronizing professor.

Rose’s mind blanks. “I have no idea.”

“Maybe...she sent out a group text or had a house meeting or something and told everyone to get out of the house for a hour or two so you could have some alone time.”

“For what?”

Eliza looks over at Yuliya. “I can’t do it. I can’t wait for her to reach her own conclusions. It’s actually hurting me.”

Yuliya shrugs. “Maybe it’s more ambivalent afterwards? We still haven’t heard the whole story.” She nudges Rose. “So what happened after everyone showed up?”

Her roommates’ faces steadily grow more and more incredulous with each sentence. Rose plows through the rest of the story before they can interrupt her again. “And then I kinda...ran out?”

“No, you were right, Eliza,” Yuliya whispers. “It’s so much worse.”

“After going over the witness’s statement several times and cross-referencing because of...habeas corpus, the jury finds the defendant completely gay and clueless,” Eliza announces.

“Okay but we already knew that,” Yuliya says.

Rose starts to retort but thinks better of it. They’re right.

“She obviously has a thing for you,” Eliza adds.

The mere idea is so outrageous that Rose can’t do anything other than sputter incoherently.

“Why are we not the ones in law school? We’re great at this,” Eliza says, giving Yuliya a high five over Rose’s head while she’s literally losing her mind.

“Pure speculation! No evidence whatsoever,” Rose says once she gets her voice back. “Any self-respecting judge would throw you out of the courtroom for such slanderous lies.”

But the seed of hope has been planted and no matter how much she denies it, it’ll soon sprout and grow.

Yuliya sighs. “Well, we did try.”

…

She has her therapy appointments every other Thursday. It was Yuliya’s idea, actually. After seeing how stressed Rose was during her first semester of law school, she recommended she see a grad student at the counseling center.

(“Why?” Rose had asked. “I complain to you all the time. It’s basically the same thing and it’s free.”

“Yes, but it works better when it’s someone who’s removed from the situation. Trust me, as counterintuitive as it sounds, you’ll feel a lot better once you vent to someone you don’t know. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually take a stranger’s advice since you never listen to me.”)

So she’s been seeing Jane for about a year now.

It’s great. Jane listens to her gripe about how hard law school is and actually gives her good advice about how to break down monstrous tasks so they seem more manageable and she doesn’t get overwhelmed.

“How are you?” Jane asks when they sit across from each other.

“I’m okay. How are you?” Rose says automatically.

“Good, good. Anything on your mind this week?”

Rose sighs. “You know I’m...uh, gay,” she whispers.

“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

This is a lie. Rose spends a lot of time lying on the floor during their sessions, overcome with feelings for a pretty lady she’ll never see again.

“Remember the girl I told you about that I saw at the diner? The one that popped my shoulder back in?”

Jane nods as she jots something down in her notebook. “What was her name again?”

“Luisa Alverrr,” Rose wails, hiding her face in her hands.

Jane gets a funny look on her face.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just...wondering if I left the stove on at home. I’m sorry. Go on.”

“So I saw her again last week.”

“That’s great!”

Rose shrugs. “I wanted to thank her for being there to help me so I got her a Starbucks gift card and she invited me over to her house for lunch.”

“Okay. You don’t seem very happy about that though.”

“I don’t know. It was fine for the most part. She made curry and we talked and I met her housemates and we washed the dishes but then I accidentally splashed the both of us and she had to loan me her shirt. God, I still have to wash that shirt.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“And then when we were saying goodbye she sort of leaned in a little? And I don’t know what she was doing but I freaked out and shoved my shoulder in her face and turned it into a hug at the last second and then basically ran out the door.”

“Okay, still not the worst thing that could’ve happened. Have you reached out to her?”

“Nooo,” Rose says, slouching so she slides off the couch onto the floor. “Well, kinda. She texted me about going to Bolt this weekend with all her friends but I don’t know if I should go.”

“Why not?”

“I’m so embarrassed. If I was her, I wouldn’t want to see me again. And besides, when I said I wanted to check out Bolt, I meant literally popping in, looking around, and then leaving.”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“She lives in a frat house. Despite her objections that it’s not as much partying as I think, she and her friends seem the type to go hard as hell. Maybe they only invited me out of pity and once I get there I’ll clam up like I always do when I’m nervous and ruin the fun for everyone else.”

“It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you think you’re going to be a certain way, there’s more of a chance of it happening, especially if it stems from negative thoughts.”

“So what should I do?”

“It depends on where your fear is coming from. Is it from a new situation? Or is it because you don’t feel safe in the environment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just something to think about. But it’s your decision, of course.”

Rose groans and flops onto her side on the floor. “I don’t want to make the decision. Someone make it for me.”

“You want someone to make your decisions for you because you feel like your life is out of control but if someone does then you resent them for taking your choice away from you.”

Rose glares at her. “Why are you psych grads all like this?”

Jane doesn’t look offended. She probably gets this all the time. “We’re only trying to get you to live your best life.”

…

It’s laundry day for Rose. She’s got her mesh laundry backpack with all her clothes presorted (whites, colors, darks, delicates) and separated by dividers before she leaves the apartment. The nearest laundromat is only a few blocks away.

As she walks, she contemplates Luisa’s invite. She’s texted her again today, gently reminding her that it’s tonight but Rose hasn’t responded yet.

Her roommates, of course, have been no help.

(“You wanna see her again, right?” Yuliya had asked.

“Yes,” Rose had moaned.

“And she invited you. So go. Nothing difficult about it.”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Of course it is. You’re the only one who’s standing in your way.”

Rose had huffed.)

She has Luisa on the brain. So who should she see when she enters the laundromat but Luisa herself? Rose doesn’t want to be questioned about why she hasn’t been returning texts so she does the most mature thing she can think of in the moment and crouches behind a row of washers, clutching her laundry bag. She waits for several heartstopping minutes but when Luisa doesn’t come to seek her out, she realizes she hasn’t been seen.

She peeks over the top but Luisa is just...sitting on a washer and sleepily slurping at a slushie, without a shirt on, naturally. Rose rolls her eyes. Why does she keep running into Luisa in various states of undress? Is this a regular thing for her?

Luisa is now using the straw as a spoon to fish around for the last bits of slushie from the cup. She brings it to her mouth but her hand slips at the last second and it lands on her stomach. Rose screams internally as Luisa wipes it up with her finger and sticks it in her mouth.

Does she know she’s here? Is she doing this on purpose?

Rose looks down at herself. Of course she looks like a hobo. It’s a lazy Saturday and she’d dressed accordingly. She’s wearing her shabbiest pair of sweatpants, a highlighter yellow summer camp t-shirt from when she was twelve (without a bra), and her glasses. She hadn’t even bothered straightening her hair so it’s a riotous mass of curls. Maybe she looks unkempt enough that Luisa won’t even recognize her? Better to be safe than sorry.

She scuttles between the rows of machines until she gets to the corner in the very back, as far away from Luisa as she can manage. Hopefully she’s inconspicuous enough to get her laundry done, or at least until Luisa leaves.

It works for a while. Rose has loaded the dryers and is about halfway through the latest installment of a teen romance series (don’t judge her) when she’s interrupted.

“Hey Rose!” Luisa drops onto the bench next to her.

She yelps and drops her book.

“What are you doing here?” Luisa grins at her, her mouth stained red like sin. Rose wonders if she’d taste like artificial cherry if she leaned over and kissed her right now.

“Rose?”

“Laundry! I had uh, dirty laundry.” It’s perfectly innocuous but she blushes anyway.

“Me too.” Luisa picks up her book and hands it to her. “I love this series. It’s hard not to root for Lucia when she’s trying her best but the world keeps on shitting on her.”

“Thank god. She’s my favorite character. Everyone else I’ve talked to seems to be indifferent about her or blames her for Joan’s pregnancy, which I understand, but without her there wouldn’t even be a plot, you know? Joan would pine for Leo for a bit but then get married to Gabriel and nothing would ever happen. Not to mention Lucia’s paid for her mistake. She doesn’t have her medical license anymore and she’s never even met her nieces and nephew and everytime she shows up for a few scenes, she’s hurt by someone she trusts or gets shipped off to another mental facility.”

“Yes, exactly!” Luisa bites her lip and looks down, fidgeting with her hands. “How do you um, feel about her relationship with Ivy?”

 _Stay calm._ “I like it a normal amount,” Rose says, trying not to vibrate on a cellular level with her love for her OTP. “Why do you ask?”

Luisa frowns. “They have such a turbulent connection, but it’s so rare to find a lesbian relationship in any form of media that’s not a male fetish and where one of them doesn’t die. I’m not happy about where they left off in the last book, but I’m hoping they go through a lot of much needed work and get back together.”

The best way to articulate Rose’s thoughts would be ??? followed immediately by !!! Seeking out lesbian representation is a pretty damn good, but not completely infallible, indicator of not being 100% straight.

Rose takes a moment to compose herself before she nods. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about it at first because Ivy is her stepmother. And on top of that, there’s the whole having Lucia committed thing which was gross. And how do you even start to get over that the person you love killed your father? I don’t know. They’re just so toxic but Ivy is also the only person Lucia has right now. She doesn’t have any connections with any of the other characters and Leo, who is the only family she has left, keeps pushing her away. And Ivy is the only one who always, always comes back to her. I’m interested to see where the relationship between Phillipa and Joan Rosario goes because it’s so much healthier, but there’s something about Lucivy that’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

Luisa is looking at her with such a tender expression.

“What?” She can feel her cheeks burning with insecurity.

“I wish I could’ve said everything you said as well as you did. You’ve put so much thought and emotion into these characters and their actions, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s sad,” Rose mumbles.

“You should never apologize for things that make you happy,” Luisa says, still giving her that goddamn look that makes Rose tingle all over.

Rose quickly changes the subject. “Doesn’t your house have a washer and dryer? I’ve been coming here for years now never seen you here before.”

“Yeah, but it’s broken right now. Funny how we keep running into each other.”

Rose laughs weakly. “How about that?”

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses though. Are they new?”

“Uh, no. Usually I wear contacts, but that was too much effort today.”

“You should wear them more often. You’re always pretty but with your curly hair and your glasses, you’re just...wow.”

Rose is 92% sure what comes out of her mouth is, “Lksdfdfljkfsdal?”

“So did you get my texts about Bolt?”

“Yes. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

“What’s up?” Luisa leans her arm on the back of the bench and props her chin in her hand, looking at her intently. It is disconcerting being her sole object of interest. It’s like staring into the sun. Rose can’t look right at her.

She coughs and directs her words at her feet. “I actually have to work from...eight to midnight tonight.”

“Doesn’t the diner close at eleven?”

Shit. Yeah it does. Rose has to think fast. “Saturday nights are when we um, do next week’s inventory. Very busy. Mickey needs me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad,” Luisa says. Relief rises in Rose’s esophagus like acid reflux. “But no worries. We go all the time. How’s Monday night for you?”

The question takes Rose off guard. She has no lies prepared. “I’m free Monday.”

“Great!” Luisa loops her arm through Rose’s. “Saturdays are obviously the most fun, but Mondays have that sheen of desperation that makes everything really lively.”

“Why are you guys hitting the bar on a Monday?”

She laughs. “Because we’re in grad school and wanna die. Everyday is the weekend.”

“When do you have time to study?”

Luisa looks a little confused before she says, “Right...studying. I suppose I could make more time for that.”

“How are you doing in your classes?”

“Fine.”

Rose squints at her, trying to figure her out. Is that a genuine “fine” or a I’m lowkey failing my classes but I don’t want anyone to know “fine”? “Do you want to maybe study together sometime?”

Luisa perks up. “That sounds good. Where do you usually study?”

“The law library. It’s nice and secluded. There’s even a coffee shop upstairs. When are you free?”

“Literally anytime. When are _you_ free?”

“Don’t you have classes and volunteering to do or something?”

Luisa blows a raspberry. “Those. I’ve got better things to do.”

She’s probably failing her classes then. “Okay, how do Tuesday nights 7-9 work for you?”

Luisa leans against her, her arm still linked with hers, to take out her phone. Rose stiffens. Luisa doesn’t seem to notice. She makes herself a reminder on her calendar, her red, red tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, before she smiles at her. “It’s a date.”

Rose’s internal screaming gets louder.

Before it can consume her, the dryer dings. Rose jumps to her feet. “I’m so sorry. I have to get going,” she says, stuffing her clothes into her bag. Usually she’d take the time to fold and sort them while she’s here but she’s scared if she stays here she’ll do something stupid, like open her mouth and start screaming out loud.

But she pauses when she comes across Luisa’s shirt.

“Oh, that. Keep it. It looks good on you.”

Rose would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to hold onto something of Luisa’s. But she’s also not in the habit of stealing people’s clothes, no matter how confused she is about their intentions. Rose swings the flannel over Luisa’s bare shoulders like a cape. “It looks better on you.”

Luisa isn’t smiling anymore. There’s something electric in her gaze as she stares up at her. Rose suddenly realizes her hands are still resting on Luisa’s shoulders and stumbles backwards.

She scoops up her bag and walks backwards out of the laundromat. “Tuesday at seven at the law library.” A note of hysteria creeps into her voice when she says, “Don’t forget!”

Luisa stares after her, disappointment written all over her face.

Rose thinks she probably just doesn't want to study.

...

Monday night comes much too early for Rose’s taste.

“I have nothing to wear!” she wails. “Should I cancel?”

“Please shut up. I have an exam tomorrow!” Eliza yells from the living room.

“Lucky for you, I’m on duty tonight for babysitting the resident gay mess,” Yuliya says, leaning against their shared bedroom doorway.

“How is that lucky? You’re not doing anything.”

Yuliya scoffs before she pushes her out of the way and starts to flick through Rose’s side of the closet. “Are you feeling more of a dress? Or pants?”

“Pants, definitely. I don’t know what’ll happen tonight and I’ll feel infinitely better if I don’t have to worry about flashing someone my underwear.”

“Oooh, how about these leather pants? I didn’t even know you had these.”

“I don’t exactly have a reason to wear them in law school.”

“Well here’s your chance. Now let’s see here, do you have a shirt that screams, ‘I’m gay’?”

Rose frowns as she wiggles into the pants. She’s out, but she’s not at the point where she comes out to every single person she meets. Her style tends to be understated, especially when it comes to her sexuality.

“What does this even mean?” Yuliya pulls a t-shirt from the very back of her closet that simply reads HAROLD.

“Oh yes, that is most definitely a gay shirt.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. It’s like a sneaky way of finding other wlw. A mating call, if you will, without alerting all the gross hetero men.”

“How?”

“Can’t tell you without forfeiting my card to the Nonheterosexual Ladies Appreciation Club. You need to join to find out.”

Yuliya rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just put it on.”  She throws the shirt at her head and goes back to digging in her closet. “Do you think it’ll be too hot in the bar?”

“Why do you ask?” Rose asks, pulling her hair out from under the t-shirt’s collar.

“Another forgotten treasure languishing in your closet,” she announces, brandishing a leather jacket.

“Do you think that’s too much leather?”

“Who cares as long as you look good?” When Rose slips it on, Yuliya whistles. “I’m straight, but damn.”

Rose raises her eyebrows. “Literally no one who has ever said that has turned out to be completely straight within a year. You might learn what HAROLD means after all.”

“We’ll see. Now hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

 

Rose blinks furiously as she enters the bar. She’s blinded by flashing lights and then darkness. The music is so loud she can feel her ribcage vibrating along with the bass. This is a Monday night?

Before she can feel too self-conscious though, a shadowy form approaches her and pulls her into two air kisses.

“HEY BITCH HEY!”

“Oh, hi Ricardo!”

“AND LOOKIN’ LIKE A SNACK TOO.”

Rose is sure she’s heard him right, but what does that even mean? She settles for smiling tentatively and nodding.

“COME ON, WE’VE GOT A BOOTH IN THE BACK.”

He leads her through a maze of people and tables to a crowded corner. Rose is relieved to see more familiar faces. Luisa jumps up and pulls her into a hug. Rose melts in her arms and tries her best to commit this to memory in case she never gets another hug ever again.

“YOU MADE IT!” Luisa says, grinning at her.

“You’re here. How could I not?” Rose automatically says. Then her brain catches up with her words. What if that’s too pushing it? “No, wait!”

But Luisa doesn’t hear her. “HEY MAC, NEXT ROUND IS ON YOU. ROSE, DO YOU WANNA DRINK?”

Rose nods. She’s going to need some liquid courage if she’s going to deal with Luisa in a lovely white sundress pressed against her for the next few hours.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Rose shrugs. It’s hard to think with so much going on at once.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO, MAC. GET THE GINGER SOME JIGGLE JUICE.”

Rose basically elbows everyone out of the way to get to Mac when he gets back and downs a shot of whatever it is. She coughs as it burns her throat. Was that just straight vodka?

“HELL YEAH. GIRL KNOWS HOW TO DOWN A DRINK!” Mira shouts, slapping her on the back.

Within minutes, everything has that loose, hazy feel she’s been looking for. She doesn’t even hesitate when Luisa pulls her out to the dance floor.

She’s expecting Luisa to bust out some seriously sexy dance moves, and she’s not disappointed, but she’s also surprised how much of her dancing is just good, silly fun. Rose simply moves. She’s sure that it looks like your typical white girl dancing, or worse, but she can’t find it in her to care.

 

Later when Luisa’s wandered off to get more drinks, Rose sits in the jumble of sweaty bodies, listening to the different conversations in that relaxed, easy way that being tipsy makes her.

“ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD TIME?” one of the girls asks her. Rose can’t recall her name.

“YEAH, SURPRISINGLY,” Rose shouts back.

“WHY SURPRISINGLY?”

“I THOUGHT I’D BE UNCOMFORTABLE. I’M NOT REALLY A BIG PARTY PERSON. BUT THIS IS NICE.”

“IT’S NICE TO HAVE A PLACE WHERE YOU DON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE REACTING TO YOU BEING DIFFERENT BECAUSE WE’RE THE NORM HERE.”

“YEAH!”

“WELCOME TO PRIDE, ROSE.”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS CALLED PHIDE?”

“TECHNICALLY IT IS, BUT WE CALL IT PRIDE BECAUSE NEARLY ALL OF US ARE QUEER.”

“CHEERS,” Rose says when Luisa comes back with a tray.

It seems odd that she should find something wholesome in a sticky bar at 1am, but there’s no other word Rose can think of that fits.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s 6:50 on Tuesday when Rose stumbles upon Luisa looking around in confusion in the library’s main hall.

“Hey, there you are! Did you get lost?”

“Yeah, this place is a lot bigger than I thought it was. Where’s your table?”

Rose leads her down to the basement of the library. There’s no one in sight.

“Nice and private so no one will ever know what we get up to down here,” Luisa says with a toothy grin.

Rose coughs, trying to hide a blush. “Uh...yeah,” she says eloquently as she starts to arrange her laptop and textbooks on the table. The last thing she does is push her glasses up into the right position on the bridge of her nose.

It takes a few minutes before she realizes that Luisa isn’t doing the same and is just watching her intently.

“Did you bring anything with you?”

“Just a notebook.”

“Do you need anything? I’ve got gel pens, highlighters in six different colors, sticky tabs in fourteen colors for marking important passages…?”

Luisa smiles. “I’m okay. Thank you though.”

“Okay. Cool.”

About ten minutes into White Collar Criminal Defense, she realizes that Luisa’s doodling a rose in her notebook.

Rose frowns at her. “Are you going to study?”

“Nah. Studying like this doesn’t really work for me.”

She blinks. “What works for you?”

“Usually I fall asleep with the textbook on my face. Learning through osmosis.”

“There’s no way that actually works.”

“Say that again when I set the curve for my classes like I have been for the last four years,” Luisa says, swaggling her head with pride.

“Hold on a second.” Rose goes to the school’s homepage and pulls up the dean’s list. “Are you serious? You never study and you’re on the A honor roll?”

Luisa shrugs. “Like it’s hard?”

Rose groans and bangs her head on the desk because of course. Of course this gorgeous girl likes to party and has flawless grades and is a good samaritan and can cook on her first try and has great taste in books and god, she is so out of her league. "What are you even doing here with me?" she mumbles.

“I just really like spending time with you,” Luisa says.

Rose stares uncomprehendingly at her.

“So we’re still good for Tuesdays 7-9, right?”

…

It is that ungodly hour between night and dawn when Rose’s phone vibrates on her nightstand. Usually she’d leave that for morning but it keeps going. Not the steady rhythm of a call, but erratically, two quick bursts and then a bit of a silence before a rapid influx of messages.

Rose rolls over and slaps at her nightstand until she gets a hold of her phone. Luisa’s the only one she knows that would be awake at this time, she thinks as she squints at the blinding screen. Maybe it’s an emergency? What if she’s in trouble? She scrubs at her face and opens the eleven messages from Luisa.

 **L:** heyyy rosey posey guess wat? oh shit i bet ur asleep. wait u probably hav ur phone on silent. @ least i hope u do bc ive got sum important info 4 u and i dont wanna wake u up.

 **L:** y were composers from the 17th century poor as hell?

 **L:** bc they were all baroque!

 **L:** oops i mightve accidentally stumbled into the mens bathroom i was laughing so hard

 **L:** anyway

 **L:** u no y im @ the bar every nite?

 **L:** wait 4 it wait 4 it

 **L:** bc i hav no monet and nowhere 2 gogh

 **L:** but srsly i like impressionism just fine but theres something v melancholy abt van goghs post-impressionism. every1 always raves abt starry nite and thats gr8 but theres something more than oh thats neat when u c skull of a skeleton w burning cigarette. its such a mood

 **L:** am i making any sense? i mite b 2 drunk

 **L:** how do u feel abt art?

Rose is only half awake so she doesn’t have that layer of fear that coats everything gay she does to check herself before she sends:

 **R:** i mean you’re pretty cool

Luisa doesn’t reply. After two minutes of silence, Rose rolls over and goes back to sleep.

 

It isn’t until the morning that Rose re-reads the exchange and freaks out.

“I don’t get what the big deal is?” Yuliya mumbles. Rose has clambered up to the top bunk and shoved her phone in Yuliya’s half-conscious face. “You guys are friends, aren’t you?”

(Yuliya and Eliza had stopped by Mickey’s one night and run into Luisa by chance, who had explicitly referred to Rose as her “friend.” Even though Rose had grilled them on every excruciating detail, they’d just shrugged.

“She seems cool,” Eliza had said. Yuliya nodded. And that was that.)

“Maybe? I don’t know! Maybe she was just saying that because acquaintance isn’t the right word but comrade has communist connotations?”

Yuliya groans. “You are putting way too much thought into this.”

“But what if she thinks I’m hitting on her?”

“Were you?”

“Not on purpose!”

“I’m sure you’re working yourself up over nothing. Even if she interprets it as flirting, friends hit on each other all the time. Homoerotic tension is an ego booster, even if it’s not serious. There’s gotta be a paper somewhere on this.”

“But why didn’t she respond?” Rose wails. “If she thought it was a joke, she would’ve said something, right?”

“There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, I’m sure. Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe she never got it. Maybe she lost her phone. Stop freaking out.”

“Should I text her and take it back?”

“No, don’t do that,” Yuliya says into her pillow. “You’ll tip her off that something’s wrong. Just casually bring it up the next time you see her.”

“We’re studying together tonight. Well, I’ll be studying. She’ll probably just be keeping me company.”

“Perfect. Ask her then,” Yuliya says. “Now get off my bed. I don’t have to be up until one today.”

 

Rose is (even more of) a high-strung mess all day, spacing out during her lectures and mixing up orders twice during her shift at Mickey’s, before she shows up to their table at the law library half an hour early and sits there pretending to study and shaking her leg under the desk.

“Hey, am I late?” Luisa asks when she slides into her seat.

“No no no. You’re right on time,” Rose says, checking her watch. “I got off early today.”

“So what’s up? You seem nervous.” Luisa puts her elbows on the table and links her fingers under her chin.

“Nervous? Me?” Rose tries to laugh airily. It comes out completely unconvincingly. She clears her throat. “Yeah, okay, you got me.”

“I do.” Luisa nods.

(Rose is so distressed she completely misses this until she replays the conversation back in her head later that night. And then she can’t sleep because she’s busy trying to figure out what Luisa means by that.)

Rose fidgets, trying to find the right words. “I’ve just been wondering, did I...offend you with my last text?”

“What? You texted back?” Luisa pulls out her phone. “Oh hey, you did. Oh my god, that is the most adorable thing anyone’s ever said to me. I honestly wasn’t expecting a reply back to my drunk rambling so that you actually woke up and took the time to read it is so sweet!”

Rose can feel the cloud of self-doubt start to dissipate. She tries her best to hold onto some of it because nothing good has ever happened out of getting her hopes too high. Better to be a cynic and proven wrong than be optimistic and be disappointed over and over again. But despite what she tells herself, she can feel her spirits buoying.

“But seriously, what do you think about art?”

“Are we still talking about you? Because I think you’re perfect,” Rose says before she can think better of it.

“You’re such a flirt. Go on. Tell me more.”

...

Despite Luisa’s best attempts to cajole her into partying every night, Rose has to remind her that she can’t keep up with her and her crazy frat friends.

“Do you guys ever sleep? And how do you manage to stay in the med program if you’re all hungover all the time?”

“As long as you remember to rehydrate afterwards, the hangovers aren’t even that bad. Besides, what’s the use of having a photographic memory and a bombass IQ if I’m not gonna use it to skate by in med school?”

“Skate by? You’re on the dean’s list!”

“Again? Cool.”

“Like you didn’t already know.”

Luisa shrugs. “I don’t really keep track.”

“You suck.”

“You love me.”

And Rose sighs because that’s closer to the truth than she wants to admit.

 

But after Luisa uses her patented puppy dog eyes on her one Friday night, Rose has no choice but to give in.

Everyone in Bolt cheers as Luisa bangs open the door (with Rose skulking behind her.)

“THIS BITCH EMPTY YEEEET,” Luisa screams as she hoists a party cannon she pulled out of nowhere up onto her shoulder. There’s a deafening boom and then the air is filled with confetti accompanied by the approving screams of the gays.

Rose blinks. What does that even _mean_?

In the time that it takes them to wind their way to the PhiDE table, Luisa’s already taken three shots.

“HOW’S IT GOIN’ LOSERS?” Luisa says by way of greeting.

They all chatter unintelligibly. Somehow it’s decided that they’re all going to dance and Rose is swept up into the group as they migrate to some open space.

While Rose awkwardly wobbles in place, trying to find something to do with her hands, Luisa bounces around her. Rose can’t understand how she can throw her limbs all over the place and still be synced to the beat. She chalks it up to another mystery she’ll never figure out, like how physics works.

When Luisa twirls Rose, Vega dances by and groans. “SO HOW’D YOU DO?”

“ON WHAT?” Luisa yells back.

“THE PAPER MCQUILLAN ASSIGNED. IT WAS KILLER.”

Luisa’s grin fades but she keeps swaying, her hips flush against Rose’s. “WHAT PAPER?”

“THE ONE ON HEALTHCARE POLICIES?” When Luisa’s expression turns into horror, Vega adds, “HONESTLY IT WOULD BE A LOT EASIER TO KEEP TRACK OF ASSIGNMENTS IF YOU ACTUALLY SHOWED UP TO CLASS.”

“WHEN IS IT DUE?”

“MIDNIGHT.”

“TONIGHT?”

“COME ON, LUISA, THERE’S NO WAY I’D HAVE IT DONE IF IT WAS DUE TOMORROW.”

“Shit,” Luisa murmurs to herself. “Okay, okay, let me think about this.”

Rose leans closer so she can speak directly into Luisa’s ear without yelling. “We can leave. I’ll keep you company while you get it done.”

“No. I put so much effort into getting you here in the first place. I want you to enjoy yourself,” she says, her face determined. “I can just type it out really fast right now.”

Rose raises her eyebrows, dubious. “Can you do that with all these distractions?”

“Watch me.”

Luisa whips out her phone and opens a blank document, still swaying in place.

“Do you...want to sit down for this?”

“Nah, I’m great at multitasking.”

True to her word, it takes 48 minutes for Luisa to write a 5000 word essay on her thoughts on medical underwriting. Rose rests their foreheads together as she reads her essay upside down and points out typos and unintelligible sentences.

When Luisa submits it at 11:57pm, she tucks her phone away and links her arms around Rose’s neck. Rose finds her hands on Luisa’s waist. Their foreheads are still touching as they basically slow dance, oblivious to everyone else on the floor.

“I mean, it’s completely ridiculous. Why should you be denied insurance because you have a serious illness? That’s why you have healthcare professionals in the first place, to address those concerns!” Luisa says.

Rose nods. “It’s so heavily ageist. I like that the ACA has restricted it somewhat, but I still don’t think it’s enough. And imagine being denied because your pre-existing condition is acne or because you’re twenty pounds over or under your BMI.”

Luisa swipes a drink from a passing server. “Dude, do not get me started on the bullshit that is the BMI.”

Rose is about to ask when the song changes.

“WHOO, THIS IS MY JAM!” Luisa raises her glass at the DJ and then tugs Rose closer.

Aside from the subdued part of her brain that reminds her that she could die happy right here and now, Rose finds it easy not to think and simply follow Luisa’s lead. At least until Luisa gets up on her tiptoes and sings right into her ear in this throaty purr that literally makes Rose’s knees buckle.

“ _I’m bringin’ sexy back, yeah_

_You motherfuckers watch how I attack, yeah_

_If that’s your girl, better watch your back, yeah_

_‘Cause you’re burnin’ up for me, and that’s a fact_ ”

 

It’s nearly three when the bartender finally kicks them out. “Guys, I love you but I’ve gotta get some sleep.”

When Rose starts to stumble in the general direction of her apartment, Luisa pulls her back. “Where are you going?”

“Home?”

“All alone and inebriated at this time of night?”

“I’m not drunk,” Rose tries to say, but it’s comes out more like “I’m drot nunk.”

“Mmhmm,” Luisa says, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Come on, you’re coming back with us.”

They straggle all across the road but they manage to all make it back to the house more or less.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Anthony says to Mira. “We should invest in one of those ropes with the handles that the preschool kids have on their outings. It would make getting everyone home so much easier.”

“Anthony. We are grown-ass adults. We don’t need a rope with handles.”

They all peel off to their separate rooms when they shuffle into the entryway.

“Remember to drink lots of water!” Vega reminds everyone before she collapses face-first on her bed. “Luisa, we’ve got that exam first thing tomorrow.”

Luisa grunts in response and leads Rose to her room again.

“Wait,” Rose says, her mind still fuzzy. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“That’s so far away,” Luisa whines. “You’re already here.”

Rose stares at the bunk bed. “Where’s your roommate?”

“Probably getting laid. She’ll throw a fit if someone else sleeps in her bed though. Here, pajamas.” She tosses her a tank top and shorts. “Do you need a toothbrush?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna wake up in the middle of the night from the taste of my own breath.”

Luisa snorts and digs around on her dresser until she comes up with a packaged toothbrush. “There’s a bathroom down the hall on your right.”

When Rose gets back Luisa’s freshly scrubbed and crawling into a sleeping bag on the floor, her eyes drooping.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting ready to pass the fuck out.”

“No I mean, why aren’t you in your bed?”

“So you can sleep in the bed.”

“No, I’m the guest. I’ll sleep in the bag. You take your bed.”

“Rose, get in the damn bed.”

“I would really feel more comfortable—” Rose starts but Luisa interrupts her.

“Too late. I’m asleep.” Luisa starts to snore in an exaggerated fashion.

Rose huffs, but gets in the damn bed. Everything smells like Luisa. Just when she thinks this is too much and she’ll never get to sleep, she’s out like a light.

 

When she wakes up, she's on her stomach, her arm dangling over the edge of the bed. Luisa's arm is flung out towards her. Their fingers are curled together. She tiptoes out of the room and gets ready for the day, laughing along with the others as they crowd in the kitchen.

She does not mention it to Luisa when she stumbles in half an hour later, rubbing her eyes and demanding coffee.

…

Luisa texts her a few days before their next study date.

 **L:** i had something different in mind 4 this tues. u up 4 it? ;)))

 **R:** What is it?

 **L:** shhh its a surprise. ill pick u up @ 7. dont eat anything. wear good walking shoes

 **R:** ???

“Am I allowed to know what’s going on now?” Rose asks as she gets into Luisa’s car.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Rose feels underprepared in her shorts and sneakers. Luisa’s gone all out on hiking gear. She’s got on mud-splattered boots, cargo pants, and a baseball cap.

When she turns into a park, Rose looks around. “What are we doing here?”

Luisa pushes a pair of sunglasses onto her face and heaves a backpack half her size onto her shoulders. “We’re going on a walk.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to go into a war zone?”

“This is a war. I refuse to be beaten by those Team Mystic losers.”

“What are you talking about?”

Luisa pulls out her phone and hands it to her. “We’re playing Pokemon Go.”

Rose hadn’t bothered with the game when everyone was playing it, but it doesn’t seem that hard. Luisa tells her the basics. Within five minutes, Rose is catching pokemon left and right with unerring precision and sending their bodies to be ground up by Professor Willow to power up Luisa’s team.

“No fair,” Luisa says, pouting. “How are you such a natural when you’ve never played before?”

Rose shrugs. “Do you want your phone back?”

“No. Keep playing for me. You do this really cute whoop when you catch something.”

After a good half hour, Luisa calls for a break. She grunts as she takes off the backpack. Rose feels guilt gnaw at her. “Sorry. Did you want me to carry that for you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll be lighter on the way back anyway.” She opens it and starts unpacking what looks like half a deli. She pulls out a stereotypical checkered blanket and lays it out on the grass. “Sit down.”

Rose’s heart swells with fondness. “You packed a picnic?”

“Can’t explore the rugged wilderness without provisions.”

Rose doesn’t mention that they’re ten minutes outside Miami.

The only thing she can think of as Luisa bites into sandwich and starts talking about CP and candy is that she wishes they were actually seeing each other because this would’ve been the perfect first date.

 

It becomes a bit of a tradition over the next few months. Some weeks Luisa will join her to study, or what passes for studying for her, and sometimes they’ll do something else. Luisa always seems to have something ready to go.

At one point, they go to a drive-in theater. It’s winter in Miami so Rose doesn’t want to die from the humidity. It’s some dumb Hollywood horror movie that Rose is only half-watching. She’s much more interested when Luisa throws a blanket over the both of them and curls into her side.

Another time, Luisa takes them to a minor league baseball game. Rose doesn’t know the first thing about baseball, but it’s definitely worth it (and honestly kind of a turn-on) to see Luisa jumping up and down and swearing up a storm in Spanish over a badly judged call.

...

Sometimes, Rose notices that Jane gets a certain look when she talks about Luisa, which is a lot. It’s hard to describe. It’s like a mix between guilt and frustration and something else, or as far as Rose can tell.

“Are you...are you uncomfortable about me talking about my huge lesbian crush on Luisa?”

“No, no god no! Why would you think that?”

“Your expression. I don’t know. Just thought I’d bring it up in case it was a topic I needed to avoid in the future.”

Jane leans forward. “Rose, we’re here to work on you. You can talk to me about anything. Another patient of mine is...going through the same thing. It’s eerie to see the amount of similarities, that’s all.”

“Oh, well I hope they’re doing okay with their crush then.”

Jane chuckles ruefully. “She’s disappointed that the other party doesn’t seem to be getting the hint.”

“So no then. We’re in the same boat.”

Jane smirks. “I think that would be an improvement.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She schools her expression into her “I’m concerned and listening as a mental health professional” face. “Nothing. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

Rose sighs. “So what do I do?”

“If you’re set on not saying anything…”

“I am.”

“Lists always help me. I find things seem clearer with a good pros and cons chart, or in your case, reasons why you think she might like you versus why she might not.”

Rose nods. “That sounds like a good idea.”

...

Of course, being the overachiever she is, she isn’t satisfied with your run-of-the-mill list. Somewhere along the way she decided the best course of action was to write out an entire mock trial starring her as the prosecution, her worst fears as the defense, and a judge as a last-ditch attempt at rationality.

So now Rose lays in the middle of the living room, her limbs splayed out like a starfish amid piles of papers covered with tiny handwriting.

Eliza lets herself into the apartment and steps around her. “Hey Rose, you got a midterm coming up?”

Rose moans.

“Cool. I can’t believe you’re studying on a Friday night. Good for you!” she says as she ducks into her room.

Rose lifts her head. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m just picking up my safety goggles,” she says. “The other engineering kids and I are gonna throw frozen turkeys into a jet engine."

“Oh. Well, have fun.”

She cackles. “That won’t be a problem. See you later.”

The front door bangs shut. Rose sighs and rolls over and looks over her notes again. All these thousands of dollars going into her law education and she still can’t use a simple simulation to figure out if a girl likes her or not.

She runs a hand through her tangled mane and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before she gets back to work, checking an old notebook and scribbling furiously on page 28 of her transcript.

She must fall asleep at some point because she wakes up when Yuliya nudges her with a foot.

“Aw, let her sleep. She’s probably exhausted from all that studying,” she hears Eliza say from the general direction of the kitchen.

She hears papers very close to her head being shuffled around.

“No, wait. Don’t look at those,” she mumbles, trying to stop her but she’s still in the throes of sleep and only manages to flop around.

“Studying, my ass,” Yuliya says. “She actually went and wrote out a whole mock trial to figure out if Luisa likes her or not.”

Rose sits up, a little dizzy from the sudden movement after her nap, and makes a futile swipe for her pages.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” Eliza runs over and reads over Yuliya’s shoulder. “Rose, honey, no.”

Yuliya sighs. “Have you considered asking her if she likes you instead of torturing yourself like this?”

Rose shakes her head doggedly. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Okay, what if you just tell her you like her?”

“Nooo, that’s even worse! That’s too much of a risk. If she says no, I’ll be crushed for the rest of my life.”

“You guys are friends now. The worst thing that happens is that it’ll be awkward for a bit, but you can still be friends.”

“No, the worst thing that could happen is that neither of us can forget that I have feelings for her and it’ll drive a wedge between us and I won’t be able to do anything without her thinking that I’m hitting on her inappropriately and I’ll lose her friendship when what I should’ve done is kept my mouth shut.”

“Wow, you’ve got this worst case scenario down pat,” Eliza says with a note of admiration.

Yuliya glares at her and turns back to Rose, her voice soft. “Regardless, _what if_ she feels the same way?”

“Then I would...I don’t know. It seems so far-fetched.”

“Isn’t it worth finding out for that chance at happiness?”

Rose considers for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. That sounds like a risk and I don’t take risks. I take myself to court in my head.”

Yuliya rolls her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

A few weeks pass and Rose figures that Yuliya and Eliza have simply given up on her love life and are letting her figure things out on her own, which she appreciates.

She’s wrong though.

One good thing about going to college in Miami is that you never have to go anywhere for spring break. Everyone _comes_ to Miami for spring break. Which is great because Rose really can’t afford plane tickets to anywhere while she’s paying her way through law school. So she’s looking forward to spending at least a few days enjoying the sand and the sea breeze and maybe getting to hang out with Luisa as just friends once she gets back from Key Largo, maybe spend a quiet night in drinking and watching shitty movies on netflix.

So she’s daydreaming about that when everything goes dark. The earthy smell of potatoes surrounds her as someone fumbles with her ankles and wrists. She’s stunned for a second before she starts to thrash.

“Shit,” Yuliya hisses. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Come on! Did you guys actually put a potato sack on my head? Where did you even get a potato sack? No one sells potatoes in sacks anymore!”

“Trader Joe’s. Obviously,” Eliza chimes in.

“Shh. Don’t talk to her. It’ll only rile her up.”

“I’m already riled up!” Rose shouts, straining against the cuffs clasped on her ankles and wrists. “Are these real handcuffs? Why the hell do you two have two sets of handcuffs?”

“Don’t answer that,” Yuliya says.

“Right.”

They lift her like a corpse and swing her into some sort of container before it trundles across the wooden floor. “What is this? Where are you taking me? Am I in a wagon?”

“Put the cover on,” Yuliya says.

“Hey!” Rose squawks as something slithers over her and the supposed wagon.

She quiets as she tracks the wagon’s movements: out the door, down the hall, down in the elevator, out the building. Are they heading to campus? It seems like it.

Ordinarily, if she was kidnapped she’d be making much more of a fuss but since it’s Yuliya and Eliza, she’s more exasperated than anything. And no small part of her is curious to see what they have in store for her. Knowing them, they’ll probably dump her all trussed up outside Phi Delta Epsilon or something which, while embarrassing, she can always laugh off and blame on her kooky roommates.

When they stop and lift her out of the wagon into a chair and whip off the bag, she blinks owlishly at her surroundings. They’re still outside, right in the middle of the grassy mall, actually. She’s sitting behind a desk that looks like it was pilfered from the library. There’s an identical desk ten feet to the left. Ahead there’s another desk with a small wooden mallet resting on its surface and a lone chair to its right. Behind her there are seats set up for an event, like a graduation or something. She’s looking at a poor imitation of a courtroom.

She would get up but they’ve neglected to remove her handcuffs. She settles for glowering up at the pair of them, who look immensely pleased with themselves. “What the fuck is this?”

“Your wildest dreams coming true,” Eliza says grandly, spreading her arms to accommodate the whole scene.

“I don’t see a parade of women in suits who look like they could snap me in half.”

Yuliya sighs. “Sometimes I forget how gay you are.”

“Okay so maybe ‘your wildest dreams coming true’ isn’t quite right, but it’s the next best thing,” Eliza amends. “We’re tired of you moping around trying to figure out if Luisa likes you or not, so we’re going to help you decide once and for all.”

Rose whips her head around. “You’re not going to ambush her, are you?”

Yuliya gives her a look. “We’re not _that_ cruel.”

Rose raises her eyebrows. “You kidnapped me! And you still won’t let me out of these cuffs.”

“Trust us, this is for your own good. The cuffs are more for our protection than anything. That and we don’t want you to leave before the main event. You’ll get a definitive answer so you can finally make a move either way.”

“Okay so what’s all the rest of this stuff for? We could’ve just done this at home.”

Eliza checks her watch. “Here they come.”

A few stragglers crowd into the chairs behind Rose, clutching flyers.

“Oh my god, it’s Rose!”

“Rose!”

“We love you!”

“We’re rooting for you!”

Rose narrows her eyes at them. “Who are you and why are you here to witness my humiliation?”

“Humiliation?” one of the guys asks. “What do you mean?”

“Where did you get those flyers?”

“They were posted all over campus.”

“Let me see. I can’t use my hands.”

He holds it up for her. It reads:

Two fed-up roommates present:  
SHE LOVES ME, SHE LOVES ME NOT

ONE DAY ONLY!!!

FREE  
OPEN TO THE PUBLIC

DON’T MISS A GRIPPING STORY OF LOVE, LOSS, AND MISSED CONNECTIONS

DOES THE WHIP-SMART, CARING, STUNNING MED STUDENT LUISA HAVE FEELINGS FOR THE ORDINARY, STRAIT-LACED, HONESTLY A HUGE DORK ROSE?

FIND OUT IN THIS THRILLING COURTROOM DRAMA

*not affiliated with the theater department

“Are you serious?” Rose seethes. “It’s bad enough you’re doing this but now you’re turning it into a public spectacle?”

“Look, there are too many roles for two people to cover okay? We needed a jury.”

“A jury? What do you need a jury for? There is no guilt to ascertain. Just because you watch a lot of Law & Order doesn’t mean you know anything about the practice of law!”

“Great yes, you’re playing the part of disgruntled law student perfectly.” Yuliya gives her a thumbs up.

“Oh and I suppose you’re just going to be part of the jury too, huh? Well guess what? The point of a jury is to be impartial. You two are out.”

“Uh, first of all, this is our production. Secondly, no we’re not on the jury. Much too common. We deserve to stand out,” Eliza says. “I’m your attorney. Yuliya’s playing the defendant/defense attorney.”

“So not only are you brandishing my very real and private feelings for everyone to see, you also ripped off my 31 page trial transcript?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I’m getting new roommates when I get out of these damn handcuffs.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but only if we don’t win. Don’t sweat it, champ. We got it,” Eliza says, punching her lightly in the shoulder.

“You’re confusing courtroom dramas and inspirational sports dramas,” Rose snaps.

She shrugs. “Same concept. We’re here to win.”

There are a cluster of chairs off to one side Rose didn’t notice before. She stares as a small orchestra takes their seats and begins to tune their instruments.

“What are _they_ doing here?”

“Don’t be rude,” Eliza says. “It’s a drama. Background music will add to the ambiance. We had to convince some of the drama-loving ho’s in the music department to be part of the production.”

To Rose’s horror, more people join the crowd. It’s about half full now.

“Not bad for the first day of spring break,” Yuliya remarks.

Rose bangs her head on the desk. “I didn’t think I could say this considering what kind of year I’ve been having but I think I might actually die of mortification.”

“You’re so dramatic sometimes I wonder if you should’ve gone into acting instead. Relax, it’ll be over in a matter of hours,” Eliza says.

“Okay so let’s get this over with.”

“We’re still waiting on one more person,” Yuliya says, her fingers flying over her phone’s screen.

“Who?”

“The judge. And there’s only one person who agreed to do it.”

“Oh god, who is it?”

“Here she comes.”

There's a figure trotting toward the makeshift courtroom, trying to hold up her billowing black robes so she doesn’t trip and making sure her ornate powdered wig doesn’t slip off sideways off her head. Rose squints, trying to make out who it is.

“Jane?” Rose says in disbelief.

"Yup."

“What are you doing here? Isn’t this a violation of patient confidentiality?” Rose asks when Jane comes into earshot.

“Not really. I’m not going to be talking about you at all. Just presiding over the trial. Besides, you signed a waiver. I’m allowed to discuss your progress for the purposes of research or spur-of-the-moment plays to figure out if your crush likes you.”

“There’s no way that was in the waiver.”

Jane shrugs. “You really should be careful about what you sign.”

She takes her seat behind the desk and fiddles with the wooden mallet.

“Sorry, we couldn’t find a gavel in time,” Yuliya says apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Jane says, scooting forward in her chair. “Are we ready to begin?”

Eliza and Yuliya exchange a grin. “We are, Your Honor.”

 

For most of it, Rose slouches in her chair and scowls. She would fold her arms if she could but the handcuffs prevent her from looking even more surly than she already does. Eliza nudges her multiple times and tells her to look more lovesick but every time, Rose mimes strangling her.

Despite her sulking, it’s not as bad as she thought it would be, although she’ll never admit that, not even under oath. It’s pretty much adapted directly from her transcript. Her roommates have even blown up copies of her texts and are analyzing them painstakingly symbol by symbol for the jury.

“According to my research,” Eliza is saying, “Four y’s in a hey means that the sender is DTF.” She uses a laser pointer to highlight each one of the y’s.

The orchestra trills a hopeful note.

“Preposterous!” Yuliya says, pushing her out of the way.

Rose rolls her eyes. There’s no way a real judge would let this level of chaos reign in a courtroom but Jane seems riveted, nodding along.

“Look,” Yuliya says, “this text is dated exactly a week from the pit incident. The only thing she knows about Rose is that she works at Mickey’s and is prone to accidents. Now why would Luisa be interested in such a cringey nerd?”

The orchestra strikes a somber chord.

“More than likely, she was drunk,” Yuliya says.

“Drunk is five y’s! This is a science!”

“This is a diagram you got off tumblr. Nothing on tumblr is considered science.”

“Okay, what about the winky faces? That is a clear indication of flirting.”

“Maybe that’s just how she texts. She uses the letters u and y to stand in for their respective words and that isn’t flirting. Stop reading into it.”

At the hour and a half mark, there’s an intermission.

“How you feelin’, champ?” Eliza asks her, rubbing her shoulders.

Rose glares at her and shrugs her hands off. “This still clears up nothing.”

“We’re winning though. I can feel it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

Rose loses track of time. Near the three hour mark, she’s called to the witness stand.

As she shuffles up to the chair, the cuffs on her ankles clinking, she hears the crowd murmur about her restraints.

“It’s a metaphor for her self-doubts. The chains holding her back from love,” she hears someone whisper to their neighbor.

Rose huffs. Art is subjective. They can believe whatever the hell they want as long as she gets out of this with what’s left of her dignity intact.

Jane hurries out from behind the desk and holds up a thin book. “You know what to do.”

“Where’s the bailiff?”

“We couldn’t find anyone,” Yuliya hisses. “Just play along.”

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”

“Sure, why not?” Rose takes a closer look at the book. “What is this anyway? This isn’t a bible.”

“Oh, I forgot to bring a bible,” Jane says. “ _The Elements of Style_ is the only book I had with me. Have a seat.”

Eliza jumps up to ask her questions, pacing in front of her like a caged tiger. “Is it true that you have feelings for Miss Alver?”

Rose stares out at the audience, which has grown considerably since she last saw. There’s only standing room now. What are all these people doing here? This is a farce. It’s not a real court proceeding. It’s not even a real show. But she’s tired of trying to figure everything out on her own. She owes it to Luisa to be honest at least.

She swallows and says in a loud, clear voice, “Yes. I do.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“Fear.”

“Elaborate, please.”

“Fear of ruining what we have now, as friends. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Women have enough trouble fending off unwanted advances as it is. I don’t want to add to that.”

“And what makes you think that she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Rose stares at her. “God, Eliza, basically everything Yuliya’s been saying. Isn’t it obvious? I would’ve thought your Law & Order bingeing would’ve given you better questions to ask than this.”

Eliza coughs. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Yuliya gives Eliza a high five as she passes her. “Don’t listen to her. You’re doing great.”

“So,” Yuliya says, putting her hands on her hips, “why is Luisa so great?”

“What?”

“Tell me why you think Luisa’s amazing.”

Rose looks nervously out at the people staring at her. “How long is this supposed to go until? We could be here for a while.”

“Eh, they’ll leave whenever they feel like it. Go ahead.”

She takes a breath. “I guess the thing I love most about Luisa is how kind she is. She’s always willing to go above and beyond, even for complete strangers. And she never expects anything in return.

Twenty minutes of nonstop rambling later…

“And those are all the reasons why Luisa deserves the best the world has to offer.”

Applause sweeps through the gathered crowd. There are some sniffles and there’s one man who’s bawling his eyes out.

Yuliya motions for silence.

“And why do you think such an incredible woman could have feelings for you?”

Suddenly the events of the year catch up to her. She is so, so tired. “I don’t,” she says softly.

“OBJECTION!”

Rose startles. Everyone’s heads turn in the direction of the shout.

Standing at the very back of the crowd silhouetted by a bank of storm clouds is Luisa.

Rose gets to her feet. “Luisa? What are you doing here?”

“I may or may not have been live-tweeting the whole thing and accidentally sent it to Luisa,” Ricardo shouts from somewhere in the crush of people.

The name ripples through the crowd.

“Luisa!”

“It’s Luisa?”

“Go to her.”

Somewhere in the back, Ricardo screams, his voice choked with tears, “GET IT, GIRL!”

Luisa takes a few steps toward her. The crowd parts for her like the sea as she breaks into a run. The clouds open above them and soak everyone in a matter of seconds. There are shrieks from the orchestra about their instruments before Eliza and Yuliya run over there and open umbrellas over them. The music picks up where it left off as Luisa barrels down the aisle toward her. She looks like a drowned rat but there’s this fierce look in her eyes that takes Rose’s breath away.

Rose’s arms automatically open to catch her, but her movements are jerked to a stop by the handcuffs. But then Luisa sweeps her up into her arms and pulls her into the most passionate kiss she’s ever had. Rose forgets about her embarrassment, about the crowd, about the rain. Everything else is muted but the feel of Luisa’s mouth finally, finally pressed against hers and the mix of euphoria and disbelief roaring through her veins.

There are cheers and more applause from the crowd amid the rush to get some cover from the downpour. Jane stays where she is and bangs the mallet with gleeful fervor usually reserved for whack-a-mole, roaring, “The court rules in favor of the prosecution! Case dismissed!”

“What was that for?” Rose asks dumbly when they part.

Luisa is grinning furiously. “Do you really think I haven’t fallen for you?”

Rose stares at her, her eyes wide. “What?”

“We’ve been dating all year.”

“Wait, we’re dating?”

“I’ve taken you on a date every week for the past four months. I thought you just really wanted to take it slow?”

“We’re dating?” Rose asks again, flabbergasted.

“You are the most useless lesbian I’ve ever met,” Luisa says fondly.

The melody swells as she pulls her into another kiss.

…

**TEN YEARS LATER**

Rose stirs into wakefulness, blinking dazedly in the dim morning light. A glance at the alarm clock says it’s only 6:49. Plenty of time before work.

She rolls over to get comfortable, intent on going back to sleep, but her breath catches when she lays eyes on Luisa.

Even after so much time together, she still can’t believe that Luisa chose her. She is magnificent, even with her skin crisscrossed with sleep lines and her mouth hanging open, drool puddling on her pillow.

Not to say that this decade has been easy on either of them.

At one point, when Rose had gently suggested Luisa might have a drinking problem, she thought they might’ve been done for good. A few months later, Luisa had been involved in a car accident and grudgingly admitted that _maybe_ Rose had a point. So now Luisa goes to AA meetings. They’ve both become good friends with Luisa’s sponsor and more often than not, they’ll all go out for coffee and donuts after the meeting.

Luisa also had a breakdown during her residency that resulted in a pretty serious occurrence of hallucinations and ended up in the hospital. Rose has a sneaking suspicion it was the outrageous number of hours they were asking her to put in but she wouldn’t hear of it. Luisa spent a month complaining about being a patient when she was so close to becoming a fully-qualified doctor. In the end though, she finished her residency and is now an OBGYN and after all this time, pretty close to the halfway point of paying off her student loans.

Of course, secrets about Rose’s past have tested their relationship as well.

(“I’m sorry, your mother is what now?” Luisa had asked, her mouth agape.

“The...head bookkeeper for what’s left of the Irish mob in Boston,” Rose had mumbled.

“Your family _kills_ people?”

“I mean, not as much anymore.”

“Not as much! I’m calling my shaman.”

“What for?”

“Obviously your family has deep-seated anger issues and my shaman is the best person to guide them through the turbulence to peace on the other side.”

“I’m not sure that will help, but I guess you can give it a try.”

“Shh, I’m on the phone. Yes, hi, I need to book an emergency intervention.”

It had not gone well.)

 

But things have calmed down the past few years. There is an embarrassing lack of drama in their lives except when Eliza, Yuliya, and Ricardo invite themselves over every year on the anniversary of the courtroom production.

("Without us, you two wouldn't even _be_ together. You should be thanking us," Eliza had said, sweeping into their house and heading straight for the wine cellar.

"Plus we're hella poor. Not all of us could've landed a doctor or a lawyer," Yuliya added, dropping onto the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

" _You're_ a doctor!" Rose had said, pointing at Ricardo.

"Bitch please. I'm general practice. I'll die before I pay off my loans."

"So where are we going this year?" Eliza had asked.

"The observatory," Luisa had said, slipping in her earrings.

Yuliya had stuck out her tongue. "You two are such nerds."

"You don't have to come," Rose had pointed out.

Yuliya had scrambled to her feet. "No, I wanna come!")

But aside from being "that one lesbian couple that takes their friends on their anniversary dates with them", they’re the most boring couple in the neighborhood. It’s nice.

 

Rose props her head on her hand and watches Luisa breathe, a little warbling snore on every exhale. Her contentment in this moment overwhelms her. Tears start to slide down her nose.

She tries to keep quiet but her snuffling wakes Luisa.

“Babe?” She scrunches her forehead, her eyes still glued together with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Why’re you crying?” The tail end of her question is swallowed by a yawn.

Rose yawns too, laughing a little through it. “I’m just so happy. I can’t believe you like me.”

“We’re married,” she points out.

“I know,” Rose says, a sob starting to build in her throat. “I still can’t believe it. How did I get so lucky?”

“Mmm, I love you but it’s too early for this. Wake me up in an hour and I’ll give you five dozen morning breath kisses,” Luisa mumbles, her voice sticky with sleep, as she nuzzles into the crook of Rose’s neck.

“Make it five baker’s dozen.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  [the dumb post that started everything](http://wistfulwatcher.tumblr.com/post/175587027665/kelssiel-beachdeath-the-most-uselesslesbian)   
> 


End file.
